Closet Negotiations
by Rashaka
Summary: Empty closets are good for lots of things. As Katara is going to find out, hiding is just one of them.
1. Chapter 1

New fic! And no, I haven't given up on any of the others. This one started as a drabble and turned into something that will have a few very short chapters. This is basically cotton candy fic. High sugar and high scarcasm, with little educational value. Enjoy it.

This one is all Katara's perspective, instead of both.

* * *

**Closet Negotiations**

**1 **

A sorry-looking bucket and a pile of dusty rags were Katara's only companions. In the blinding dark of a small supply closet the young traveler felt no need to acquaint herself further; the smell of must and soap was evidence enough of their existence. She leaned against wood-board walls and hugged her arms tighter around her chest, gaze fixed on the line of light at the base of the door.

She kept herself busy counting the minutes until it would be safe to try and get out of there. Katara shouldn't even have been there in the first place, but one hiding place was as good as another when the personal guard of the Fire Princess dropped in uninvited. As soon as she recognized the two girls swaggering through the shop doors Katara had hastily moved to the back and escaped into the private hallways. She'd hoped for a window but somehow ended up with a closet; the brief minutes inside it so far had been tense and lonely. Noise, and shouting, and all manner of intimidating sounds echoed back to Katara from outside. She was getting prepared to open the door a crack and do some reconnaissance when it swung wide of its own accord and a large silhouette was shoved in her direction.

"You'll be safe in here, just don't make too much noise. And for spirits' sake, don't start any fires."

The door slammed shut again, leaving Katara with a stranger. A firebending stranger, by the sound and smell of it. His back to her and there was barely enough space to turn around, less than a foot between them at the furthest.

"Who's there?" his sharp voice asked. "If you don't answer in the next three seconds I'll consider you a threat and I _will_ hurt you."

At the sound of his threat Katara gritted her teeth; the familiarity of his voice was difficult to ignore. She hoped and prayed to Yue that he was not _that_ firebender. Would that it were _anyone_ but him! A faint creak moved through the air of the tiny closet as she began to inch off the cap of her canteen. Before she could get to the water the air changed and a man's hand clamped down on her shoulder, spun her roughly, and finished by bracing her face-first against the wall. His breath tickled her neck, bringing back flashes of being tied to a tree with the fire prince circling like a vulture and whispering a bargain of lies into her ear. The memory made Katara angry, and she wondered if she could knock the wind out of him with a solid blow from her elbow. It would have to wait until he relaxed a fraction: right now he held one arm across her shoulder-blades to pin her down while his other hand ignited a tiny flame to the left of their heads.

With her cheek pressed hard against the wall, Katara was able to sneak a glance at the face of her captor. It was the prince indeed, and he didn't look any more excited to see her than she felt to see him. His expression shifted from startlement to affrontery and finally settled at resignation.

"Oh, you," he muttered, and his hands dropped from her back. Katara, grateful and at the same time slightly annoyed that her enemy—former enemy?—didn't consider her a worthy threat, turned around so her back was once more against the wall. She rubbed her neck tiredly and watched her fellow closeteer retreat as far away as possible. Their enclosure was tiny, and he could put less than dozen inches between them. If the poor, harried shop owner tried to shove one more refugee into the mix there probably wouldn't be room to breathe at all.

"Nice to see you too, Zuko." The arch in her voice was high enough make weaker soul cringe. The firebender just frowned faintly and looked away. Katara bristled at the dismissal, and let sarcasm seep into her tone. "What brings you to this closet, _your highness_?"

"I'm hiding from Azula's subordinates. Silence would help in that regard."

"They can't hear us with all the noise outside. Besides, you saw how far back the closet was." She eyed the door frame in the low light of his firebending—his entire body practically blocked it. Since when had he gotten tall? She'd have to convince him to switch places if she wanted to escape, and she'd prefer running for her life over being trapped in a small dark place with Fire Lord's son. He'd already proved he could restrain her before she had the time or room to waterbend, and in this tiny box his size gave him the advantage. Why oh why didn't she carry a knife like Sokka had suggested when they separated this afternoon?

Zuko, who looked like he was sizing her up, voiced the same conclusion: "You don't have any weapons but your water, do you? It's pretty stupid of you not to carry something. If I were to threaten you in here you couldn't do much."

Katara's breath hitched in her throat. "Are you going to threaten me?" she asked carefully. No inflection, no tone: a question that conveyed nothing.

Zuko's mouth twitched into a faint shadow of his former smirk. "No. Hurting you's not worth the mess."

"You're right," she replied. Katara's spine was straight as an arrow, her chin high. "Because if you were threatening me, I'd have to resort to more creative methods of attack. Did you know waterbenders can affect the water in your blood and in your stomach? I've never tried it, but I'm awfully talented." She didn't add the other things she was pretty sure she could do—things to his eyes, the liquid in his ear drums. Nasty, horrible things she thought of sometimes but would never suggest to Aang and never, ever wanted to have to try. Let Zuko think that the water in her pouch was her last defense.

The prince's gaze narrowed as he tried to determine if Katara was bluffing. His eyes were dark as amber in the firelight, lacking that dangerous edge of gold. It made him seem less frightening, somehow.

"Perhaps," he said at last, and the master waterbender knew that was all the acknowledgement she'd get from him, "But as it is there's not much point in threatening each other here."

With his words the fire went out and Katara was plunged into darkness once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

"Hey!" she whispered loudly. "What'd you do that for? Bring it back so I can see you!"

Zuko's deep voice rumbled from the direction of the door. "Feel the walls. This place is a tinderbox, and on top of that there's not a lot of air. We don't need sight badly enough to risk it."

His logic was maddening, but it had its intended effect. She huffed and settled against the wall. They coexisted in the dark quiet for several minutes, by Katara's count. Eventually she began to fidget, unwilling to ignore the fact that someone as dangerous as Zuko was standing so uncomfortably near when she was unable to see him.

"What's wrong with you now?" the darkness asked.

"What?" she said blankly, pulled out of her reverie.

"Stop fidgeting."

"How did you know I was fidgeting?"

"We're pretty close. I can hear every move you make in here." Katara found suddenly that if she listened, so could she.

"_You_ stop. You keep squeezing your fists and popping your fingers, and I can hear you just as well as you can hear me."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Another minute passed, and then, "Zuko."

"What."

Katara drew in a breath. "What happened to the older firebender you travel with, General Iroh? Was he okay?"

She wasn't sure why that question had popped out, because when she'd said his name she'd meant to ask him why he wasn't chasing them anymore. But this came out instead, and after the words left her lips Katara found herself desperate to know his answer. As if the reply would give her some insight into Zuko's changing behavior, something bigger and more genuine than his mission to capture Aang. She didn't have any explanation for why she cared beyond the simplest one: they were being forced together for a short time, and Katara at her most basic self was a social being. She didn't like Zuko, but she kind of knew him. For Katara that was reason enough.

"He's fine," Zuko eventually replied, "But I don't believe you really care, so why are you asking me?"

"I'm glad," she said, and ignored his question. It was a mistake: six seconds later she was pressed roughly against the back wall of the closet again, this time facing Zuko. He held her arms back with both of his and although their bodies weren't quite touching she could feel his shape a hairsbreadth away.

"Why do you care about my uncle?" he hissed, face too close to hers in the darkness. Katara had a terrifying flash of fear that he would breath fire and burn her face like his own, but the fear passed when she reminded herself who she was dealing with and where they were.

"Why did you say you could help back in that town?" Zuko continued, tightening his grip on her wrists. "Why are you so interested in what happens to him?"

Katara had been preparing to explain and defend herself as simply being a nice person who cared about other human beings, but his last sentence irritated her with its needless paranoia.

"My bending means I'm a healer, you moron. It's in my nature to care about others, even people I've clashed with in the past. If you weren't so paranoid every time someone tried to help, maybe things would work out better for you. I bet you've pissed off pretty much everyone you've ever met, but still, not everyone is out to hurt you!"

He growled, "You're a fool, waterbender. And you have a nasty habit of making assumptions."

"My name is Katara," she snarled in return. "I know you know it, so use it! Now let me go."

"Why should I?"

"Let me _go_, Zuko."

"No," he said, and Katara had the absurd thought that he was refusing just to be contrary.

"Let me go now or I'll make you," she warned in a fierce whisper.

He said "Don't make me laugh," so she lifted her knee to bash him in the groin. To her shock he not only deflected it, but in doing so ended up with his leg between hers and her body pressed firmly between him and the wall. For a moment, everything stopped. Life outside their enclosure receded, sounds fading to a distant whisper until all that remained were the two young benders in a world of their own. A private world that, with a single act, had shifted in incalculable ways.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Little about their positions had actually changed but Katara's perspective was suddenly altered, quite possibly forever. With his leg pressed between hers and her chest flush against his Zuko stopped being a _firebender_ and started being a boy. A boy not so different from Haru or Jet or Aang. A real, tangible _boy_, with arms and legs and a mouth that were all very, very male and very, very close. Katara had no idea what he was thinking but it must have been as staggering as her own thoughts because neither of them had spoken in practically an eon.

What was she supposed to do now? What did she _want_ to do?

He wasn't moving. She couldn't see. Someone had to make a decision.

"Zuko, let go of my arms," she said gently. She waited a beat.

"Okay," he murmured and released her, uncharacteristically passive. But he only stepped back a fraction, just enough so that his leg was no longer between hers. Their forms still teetered on the edge of touching, and she could not only hear his quick, shallow breathing but feel it.

She inhaled to speak again, and that was when he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Katara's intended words became an unarticulated noise buried under Zuko's assualt. The wall was hard and flat behind her but his hands were cradling her cheeks, her neck. It made no difference if her eyes were open or closed because in the darkness all she had to sense was touch. Zuko's touch was new and awkward, but not unkind.

It was her first real kiss, and like the kiss-that-wasn't-a-kiss this too was in the dark, but a much smaller dark with no where to go but closer in. The contact was strange and wet and it wasn't bad, it wasn't bad at all. It was—

Zuko's lips separated from hers, and he stepped back. His hands lingered for a moment longer on the curve of her jaw before they too fell away.

Her first thought was _Did I do something wrong_, because Zuko wasn't explaining and once again they were just two people alone together. In front of her she could hear heavy breathing that matched her own. Nervousness, confusion, and excitement hammered Katara's heart so loudly into her ribcage she thought it might break her chest. Wouldn't that be an awful sight after kissing someone? But she couldn't see anyway, and neither could Zuko, and _oh great spirits_, all this silence was killing her.

"Why did you...do that?"

"I don't know." He sounded young, honest—and strangely, shaken. "It was an impulse."

She believed him, if only because that sounded nothing like the fearsome villain she thought she knew.

"That was my first real kiss," she offered, brushing away the memory of something childishly close to it with a different boy in a different place. Katara couldn't afford to think about Aang right now—she wasn't sure she wanted to think about anything except this moment, about what was happening. Or what wasn't happening.

"Was it?" he sounded distracted, and she wondered what could possibly be distracting him here. How could Zuko even be distracted, after what had just occurred? It was all she could think about. It was all she wanted to talk about.

"How many times have you kissed someone?"

Her question caught him by surprise, and he answered truthfully, "Just the once."

"Oh." The silence slipped further into awkwardness. Katara wasn't sure exactly why, but it made her even more nervous to know she was his first kiss too.

"I just sort of thought..." she began. "I mean..."—shut up shut up shut up— "You seemed...pretty confident."

"I'm...sorry. If I startled you."

Katara wished she had a pillow to scream into.

"You don't have to—look, would you just light a flame for a second? Please, just, make some fire so I can talk to you."

"No." He was hiding, that's what Zuko was doing. He had kissed her, he had really _kissed_ her and she couldn't believe it but now he was _hiding_. In the darkness of a closet that was already keeping him safe from someone else. The thought struck her that Prince of the Fire Nation was hiding from girls a lot these days.

In the tense blackness of the closet, Katara swallowed a giggle. And then another.

"What was that?"

Suddenly it all seemed so incredibly hilarious, and she couldn't hold back.

He hissed, "Are you laughing at me? Stop laughing!"

Katara truly tried to stop but the giggles bubbled up and out of her in a fountain of misplaced emotion. All the fear of getting caught, all the loneliness of waiting in the dark, all the tension and the bickering and the crazy butterflies in her chest flowed together into onslaught of laughter. She, Katara, was in a closet with a banished prince who smelled like sweat and dust and failure, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop laughing about it.

"Be quiet!" Zuko grabbed her with one hand and covered her laughing mouth with the other. "You're going to call attention to us if you don't shut up!"

Katara nodded, and tried to tell him that she thought she was okay now, but his hand muffled her words.

"Do you promise to be quiet?" he demanded. She nodded again. "Okay," he said, and lowered his hand from her face. She hastily grabbed it; it was now or never, before she thought too hard.

"What is—" Katara finished Zuko's sentence for him by pushing the boy back against the closet door and pulling his head down for their second kiss. It was like the first but more fun, because now _he_ was against the wall and Katara's hands were fisting in his short hair as she tried to press herself closer. If the young waterbender could have climbed all the way into his pockets she would have.

She felt a rush as Zuko, slow on the uptake but not obtuse, found his hands clutching her hips and her tongue in his mouth. Grabbing Katara even closer he spun them a quarter turn until the door was to one side and the back of the closet to the other. The box's width was narrower than its depth and now they had even less space to move if they should want to separate.

That was okay with Katara, seeing as she didn't want to. Sometime back around their fourth kiss—by now she'd stopped trying to decide what determined the end or the beginning of kissing— she had come to the definite conclusion that arguing to kill time was overrated, but kissing… kissing was fun. Kissing _Zuko_ was fun. Sokka and Aang and the Water Tribe weren't around to tell her she couldn't, and she was bored in here, and Zuko was safe. Relatively. For a firebender.

Actually this was pretty stupid and dangerous but none of that seemed to bother her right now.

The prince pulled back his head, gasping for breath. "Okay. Um…Okay." He made noises like he was getting ready to say something.

"Zuko, you had your chance to talk." She ran her hands down his chest and started kissing him again, feeling bold and grown up. "You wasted it."

Too late Katara remembered that taunting arrogant firebenders was a bad idea. No sooner had the snide words left her mouth than Zuko pushed their intertwined bodies away from his wall and toward the opposite one, trapping her like she had just trapped him. Fingers ran up and down her sides, daring to brush her chest but never stopping there. Her own hands wound their way around his neck again. Zuko had nice, broad shoulders. Leaner than he looked with his armor on, but more filled out than Sokka. She wished she could see his body up close in the light.

The door to the closet was flung open and Katara got her wish.

"What in Oma's name!"

Zuko and Katara stood frozen and blinking in the light that spilled from the hallway. She had one hand at the base of his neck and another on his shoulder; Zuko had both of his hands circling her waist and Katara didn't look down to check but she was pretty sure one of her legs was half-wrapped around his.

"You!" The shopkeeper, a woman of forty years and five children, grabbed Zuko by the collar and yanked him out of the closet. He lurched into the hall while his partner in crime tried to inch past the distracted matriarch.

"Don't you move another step, young lady!" Katara obediently froze. The woman looked back and forth between the two of them, flicking her dishtowel in one hand.

"YOU!" she suddenly shouted, and swung an accusing finger at Zuko. He shrank back a little. "I didn't offer you sanctuary so that you could make my mop locker into a chamber for your sordid idea of an afternoon tryst! What if one of my little baby girls had opened the door and seen this? What then, young man!"

Zuko bowed his red face to the floor and muttered the meekest, most pathetic apology Katara had ever heard. She gulped as the woman turned to her next.

"And _you_, young lady." The shopkeeper grabbed the girl's chin with bony hand and stared into her eyes. She frowned, then shook Katara's face a little. "Get some sense child, and stop kissing strange boys in closets. You never know where they've been."

* * *

**The End**


End file.
